


Meant, Said, Felt

by mischieviolet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1489522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischieviolet/pseuds/mischieviolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They dated and it didn't work out. But they also know that whenever they want to see each other they can go to this pub, and the other is usually there. They'll still end up going home together. Except after a while, one stopped showing up...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meant, Said, Felt

**Author's Note:**

> Dear **digthewriter** , thank you for the amazing prompt! This fic has kicked my arse numerous times the past couple of weeks - I hope I haven't butchered your idea too much, and hope it satisfies! ;)  
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to the **dracotops_mods** for indulging my many requests for extensions and to my beta Miss D.

I had never expected to go out with the man. When I suggested a relationship - to go steady after weeks of fucking, I had not expected him to agree. I then didn’t expect it to last as long as it did. 

As I scanned the gossip section of the _Daily Prophet_ , watching him stumble out of a club at three in the morning in black and white and on repeat, I didn’t expect the pang I felt in my stomach at the thought of him and the young man who was clutching at his arm to steady him.

I don’t know why I was surprised at the feeling; I wasn’t the one who had ended the relationship after all. 

“What’s he been up to _now_?” Hermione tutted, leaning forward to see what I was staring at. 

I turned the page, trying to feign nonchalance and avoiding her eye contact. 

“Who?” I asked, as if I didn’t know. I’m not sure how I managed to avoid a slap. Hermione rolled her eyes and snatched the paper out of my hands, turning to the page I was on. 

“That’s a flattering picture, he’s gonna love that,” Ron snorted, coming back from inside the bustling café with a number from the table, shoving money back into his pockets and peering over Hermione to look at the paper. “Who’s the guy?” 

“Don’t know,” I said, fiddling with the metal stand of the table number, avoiding the look Ron and Hermione then shared. I wish I could have added that I didn’t care… I could have tried, but I knew it wouldn’t have sounded convincing. I hadn’t succeeded in convincing myself these past few months. 

Hermione closed the paper and threw it onto the empty chair beside her. She then muttered something that sounded like “That bastard Malfoy.” I smiled at her and shrugged again, busying my hands with fiddling with a napkin.

“I’m not surprised, or hurt, or angry,” I said, making eye contact with both of them. “The break up was mutual.”

It wasn’t really, not one hundred percent, but they didn’t need to know. 

“Anyway, I’m sick talking about him, and here’s coffee,” I said quickly, gesturing over Ron’s shoulder. “What’s been happening since I saw you last?”

Thankful that Ron launched into a story about George and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, animatedly gesturing which almost caused the coffee mugs the waitress was balancing on a tray to upsize and therefore distracting Hermione from her dedication of pining me with that look. 

If he’d been here he’d have snorted at Ron’s clumsiness, said something insulting albeit playfully, then laced his fingers with mine. I could still feel, if I wanted to, those cold fingers teasing mine. 

He had decided, a couple of months ago, that our relationship was something too messy, too complicated, too restricting, too unlike him… something he didn’t want. I’d agreed of course, in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. I thought I’d been lucky to have him for the time that I did. 

I’d never really understood the man who was Draco Malfoy, and felt if he needed to be set free why should I restrain him? He’d been my first serious relationship in years, and perhaps I was too messy, too complicated, too restricting for him. 

How we’d been suddenly drawn together, how we started something underneath sheets to then something public was yet an unsolved mystery to me. 

He’d disappeared after his trial, and with everything as crazy as it was for that period, I hadn’t really noticed. I’d gotten on with Auror training, I’d passed and been accepted, along with Ron. Just after my twenty-fourth birthday, Draco had returned, swanning into an Auror meeting regarding a case that had international suspects. Robards proceeded to introduce him as to have recently joined the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Draco had proceeded to sit in front of Ron and myself, smirking and shuffling many thick files. Ron had proceeded to clench his fists under the table everytime Robards stressed the importance of following international laws and politics, and what an invaluable resource Draco would be, and Draco would raise his eyebrows in our direction. 

My thoughts proceeded to how badly I wanted to clench my fists around handfuls of that hair. 

He had turned out to be an invaluable help, even if Ron never wanted to admit it. 

He’d managed to make sure Ron and I, as well as the others, hadn’t put a foot in it and compromised the case. He’d also managed to befriend Hermione, who would gladly admit he’d changed, and was fun, witty, intelligent and of course, good at what he did. The fact that they were friends was of course something else Ron never wanted to admit to. 

It was from their friendship that a tradition emerged. It was from that tradition that our relationship followed. 

Hermione and Draco had started visiting a place just outside Diagon Alley, a small bar that really wasn’t all that small, called Bar de Halcyon. It was opened by a couple of by a couple of ex Hogwarts students, and catered mostly for a Wizarding crown outside of Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. It was a trendy, popular bar which served excellent food and even better drinks – and was somewhere Ron would never have taken Hermione usually. Draco and Hermione would talk about work, and research, about a new Law that was being discussed that wasn’t going to work, where Draco would fill Hermione in on what was happening in what country, and ultimately, a place where he would either support Hermione’s ideas about campaigns or shoot them down. 

We’d started tagging along once Ron had gotten the feeling he was missing out on something and was getting sour about it. I’d been more than happy to spend time with not only Hermione and Ron, but also this new Draco Malfoy, who swanned around not only his department and mine, but anywhere in the Ministry he needed to be. He’d grown into his pointy features, and he’d definitely gotten taller. He’d acquired a wardrobe of never ending suits and robes. He’d developed an annoying habit of reading Auror reports over my shoulder without me noticing, his tutting and scoffing the only sudden alerts of his presence. 

Hermione, Ron and myself never really voiced concern that Draco Malfoy, of all people, had managed to worm his way into our group. We didn’t really bat an eye-lid when Blaise, Pansy and a few other Slytherins joined us at Bar de Halcyon. We’d all become fascinated at what had happened to one another after the way, what we’d done with ourselves, and what we planned to do. I guess we’d grown up.

I also couldn’t deny I liked Draco, and took his company however he came. While we weren’t the best of friends, we sought each other out at work, at parties, at the Bar, we flirted and joked together… we were drawn together, constantly. We still fought viciously, especially in the company of our friends who didn’t think twice about it anymore… Something was building up between the two of us.

I’d learnt that he’d been in France after the war with his mother, and had worked for their Ministry as a Junior Assistant to the Minister through a connection of his Mother’s, but what had really interested him was the Politics and Laws of France, and comparing them to that of Britain’s, and other Ministries internationally. He’d run away to France after the war to escape the memories, the pressure, the people and admitted he’d run back to Britain to escape the pressure from his mother to marry a French girl, a clingy relationship and the aristocrats he was hanging around were too much. Apparently. 

He bullied me into getting coffee from his favourite café just down the road from the Ministry, despite the fact that I liked the ‘swill’ that the canteen served. He sometimes bought me back gifts from wherever he’d been, the only condition on getting them was some of my time dedicated to filling him in on any gossip, especially if it concerned my love live. I’d learnt he way gay, and he’d learnt the same about me. I learnt that I was falling for him, big time.

The good thing about Bar de Halcyon was its open nature to all sexual preferences, and the patrons honoured that. We’d scoped the bar many times together for potential partners, teasing and joking and sometimes actually helping. I’d observed that Draco’s signal for ‘I’m fed up and going to go elsewhere or home’ was a glass of his favourite red wine, and soon it became a shared symbol between us. 

One night we’d both ordered a glass after an uneventful evening – most of our friends had other commitments or had gone home earlier. An older guy, who I had to admit was attractive, had caught my eye whilst Draco’s back was turned to the rest of the bar ordering our wine. The guy had winked, and I was smiling back when a glass of the red was pushed into my hand and Draco’s scoff made me break eye contact. 

“Oh please, he’s old enough to be your father – sorry,” he said, throwing his hand up defensively when I opened my mouth to act offended. “I never know if that’s politically correct with you.”

“Coming from the king of being politically correct,” I snorted, sipping my red. “And no he isn’t.”

“He is, he’s probably got a son the same age as us. I can tell – I’m perceptive like that.” He’d said, his eyes full of mirth and I knew he was taking the piss. “He just wants that scar – look at his elbowing the rest of his old gentlemen’s club about you. He’s really not your type.”

“He isn’t,” I admitted, turning slightly so I was facing Draco. “I’m more into blondes. And so over the scar worship.” 

Draco had put his glass down and mock-mused the situation. “Well, that’s funny… I’m blonde, and I’ve always hated that scar.” 

I swallowed the sip of wine I’d just taken which burned on its way down rather than comment. My heart was thumping in my chest. Draco had taken my wine glass out of my hand, and rested it next to his on the bar. Two long fingers looped into my belt hoops and pulled me closer to him. Grey eyes searched mine, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. It took everything I had not to rush into a kiss, to crash my lips against his. I’d been thinking about it since his return, his ambush into my friendship circle, and his persistent effort to build up some sort of friendship with me. I’d wanted more, and here it was. I couldn’t believe it was real.

“So, what do you say Potter?” he’d asked huskily, leaning forward ever so slightly, eyes fixed on my lips.

“Did I really admit I’m into blondes?” I’d said. 

His answer was a brief touch of lips against mine, a kiss that explained that perhaps in some way I was his type, too. We’d somehow managed to make our way back to his apartment unable to keep our hands off each other once we’d both mutually agreed we should have been doing this weeks ago. He’d fucked me against the wall of his hallway, a hot, fast almost desperate fuck that resulted in us locking eyes after and laughing at the craziness of it all. After that, the glass of red wine became a signal for both of us at Bar de Halycon: _I don’t want anyone else tonight._

After a few weeks of casual fucking, I’d proposed the relationship on the way to get coffee one Monday morning. Draco had spent the whole weekend at Grimmauld Place, where we’d fucked and gone out for meals, watched sappy movies together and fucked some more. Even though he’d hesitated, pausing mid stride to the coffee shop, he’d agreed. 

He’d been right to hesitate –it seemed that as soon as we put a label on us it just didn’t work. While we made up easily after every crazy fight, they were just that – crazy. I learned I got easily jealous, Draco just as much. I often felt I played a supporting role in his life, this relationship. I didn’t enjoy the fights and the fighting for his attention every time we went out. 

///

He had then strolled into my kitchen one Sunday morning, announced our relationship had run it’s course, in his opinion. I’d agreed, trying desperately to think what I’d done, or what had happened. 

He had seemed hesitant to leave the relationship, just as he’d been to enter it, scanning the kitchen and checking his pockets for belongings. 

He’d locked eyes with me and said softly, “Bye, Harry.” 

I thought I had heard some disappointment in his voice, but the crack of Apparition was louder. 

He was unreadable, and always slightly out of reach. He confused me, and irritated me. One minute he was the perfect boyfriend, attentive and affectionate and in the same week would ‘forget’ to introduce me to handsome friends that always came out the woodwork.

And now here I was, months later, eating breakfast with Ron and Hermione watching him stumble out of a club that was definitely not Bar de Halcyon in the Prophet, with one of those handsome friends. 

“He came to Bar de Halcyon Friday night,” Ron said, sitting up as he spied the waitress with our breakfast. “He was looking for you.”

“He was asking about you.” Hermione added, eyes meeting with mine. I felt my gaze fall to the prophet on the chair, thinking he couldn’t have been that concerned. I had feigned a headache this past Friday. “You should come next time.” 

Despite our relationship having not worked out, we were still casually fucking. I knew whenever I wanted to see him, organising a catch up at Bar de Halcyon, or accepting an invite from one of our other friends would ensure I saw him. If he wasn’t with someone else, or if he hadn’t found anyone else, all I needed to order was that glass of red wine. 

He did the same. 

I knew I did it because I hadn’t wanted to let him go in the first place, and if casual fucks from him was all I got, so be it. 

Draco didn’t come easily, however. One week he’d be coy, flirtatious, attentive and convince me to go home with him by purring in my ear, the next time we’d fight viciously, as usual, over something as stupid me not matching my shoes and shirt. Those nights ended in one of us grabbing the other violently and Apparating to one of our beds. While it was normal, something that our friends rolled their eyes at these days, it was becoming draining. To me, at least. 

We finished breakfast, Ron and Hermione rushing off to run errands before afternoon tea at her parents later, and I decided to stroll around Diagon Alley to avoid an empty home and piles of unfinished Auror Reports. 

It was just my luck that I spotted Draco strolling my way, Daily Prophet tucked under his arm and take away coffee cup from his favourite shop in hand, and an easy smile. I had to arch an eyebrow at how good he looked – he was stumbling out of a club earlier this morning. 

“Harry,” he said, stopping before me. He wore sunglasses, a jumper that looked like it would melt should you touch it and well-fitted jeans. He looked good, he smelt good, and being back in his presence felt good. 

“I wouldn’t read that if I were you,” I said, gesturing towards the Daily Prophet. “They got one of those pictures you love.” 

His hand with the coffee cup froze half way to his mouth momentarily, but he took a sip and then laughed without mirth, tongue swiping away a drop of coffee left behind. I had hoped he didn’t notice my eyes follow his wicked tongue. 

“My apologies,” he said, bowing his head slightly. I didn’t know what he meant – sorry for the photo? For breaking it off? For being so unreadable, unpredictable? “I know not everyone considers people going out news. You were always so angry about that…”

“I didn’t pay much attention to it, really,” I said, shrugging, knowing full well I had been studying it only hours before. I thought I saw his smile falter. 

“I missed you at Bar de Halcyon Friday,” he said, shifting the Prophet to underneath the other arm and pushing his sunglasses on top of his head. “Did you have a date?”

“Something like that,” I said, feeling silly and awkward. In terms of post-break up conversations this was great – but it wasn’t us. 

“Well, hopefully see you this weekend?” he asked, breaking eye contact with me only for a moment so he could wave at what was probably a colleague. 

I nodded, willing myself to smile easily. “Perhaps, Draco.”

I mock-saluted him, and made my way on, aware that his stare was on my back. When I turned to enter Flourish and Blotts (for really no reason other than to escape his gaze), I noted him still in the same spot, watching me while sipping his coffee. 

///

Just as Draco had ambushed his way into my life, his friendship circle and eventually my bed, he’d managed to work his way into my system. I was addicted. 

I longed for his touch, his smell, his taste. And like an addict, I decided to best way to quit him was to go cold turkey. I’d not gone to Halcyon last time the invite was out and I was determined not to go this evening. 

I really just wanted to avoid Draco, and avoid ending up in his bed to be forgotten about once it was over. He made sure we avoided any conversation about why we didn’t work out romantically, and I had conceded that perhaps it had just run its course. We were two friends who spent a lot of time together, who were attracted to each other and who were often drunk and lonely. We got it out of our systems – or at least he had.

I had gotten carried away, and I guess Draco had been kind to entertain the thought of a relationship with me. 

I voiced this opinion to Hermione in an attempt to get her off my back one Friday night. 

“I don’t think so,” She had mused, pouring three glasses of expensive champagne she had received from the Ministry for some efforts somewhere earlier that day. She looked up as Ron shouted at the telly, enjoying a Muggle football game. “I don’t think he knows what he wants, and he doesn’t want to commit to anything should it turn out he doesn’t want it…” 

She handed me a glass, starting slightly as Ron shouted again. She rolled her eyes at me, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“Please come for dinner at Halcyon, Harry,” She said, making her way to the lounge to join Ron, who accepted his glass without looking away, mesmerized at the game I don’t think he understood one hundred percent. “You’ve been avoiding the place, and it’s been noticed. I think Draco’s in France this weekend – didn’t he say something like that last weekend, Ron?”

“Uh huh,” Ron muttered, swigging his champagne back and grimacing as he noticed what it was. “Come on, mate. Time to meet someone new, eh?”

I rolled my eyes at him and took a sip on my own champagne. “You’re both acting like I’ve been hiding away and pining.” 

“I think you both like each other more than you _both_ let on,” Ron said, raising his eyebrows at me. He skulled the rest of his champagne, as Hermione beamed at him. I got the feeling this was something she’d convinced him off. “God that’s awful. Let’s finish so we can go have some cider or something equally as plebeian.” 

We got to Halcyon, and immediately I was glad for my champagne clouded over mind. I needed it when I saw him, standing at the bar, looking very attractive and very much not in France. He was in what looked like a serious conversation with Blaise, who looked quite bored. His eyes met mine and I nodded to acknowledge his presence, as if I could ignore it. Blaise did the same as we made our way over to a table, and moved to join us, but was stopped by Draco’s hand on his forearm.

I hoped I wasn’t frowning as I sat down.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, passing me a menu a waiter placed at her elbow. “I didn’t -”

“Don’t say you didn’t know, you know everything,” I said, eyebrow raised. “You knew he’d be here.” 

“Wouldn’t hurt if you just got back together, kissed and made up, you know,” Ron said, giving Hermione a look I read as ‘told you’, “I kind of miss the git.” 

“Please,” I muttered, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. We kissed and made up quite often, that wasn’t the problem. I watched as he and Blaise followed a waiter to their own table, a far way away from ours. “You just like those chocolate croissants he brings back for you.” 

Ron groaned in appreciation, obviously agreeing to my statement. “Might go ask-”

Hermione whacked him with her menu, rolling her eyes. “Leave him alone and pick what tapas we’re having.” 

Ron did pick, and after two rounds (he wasn’t satisfied with just one) we had caught up, laughed, ate and drank – I’d even managed to keep from searching for Draco, until I saw him get up to go out to the courtyard to have a smoke. I couldn’t help it; I needed my fix of him. 

“Toilet,” I said, as an answer to Hermione’s questioning look. I saw her mouth twitch, but she refrained from saying anything and allowed Ron to coerce her into ordering desert. I did go to the toilet, which was situated in a small building conveniently on the other side of the courtyard, before trying to find him. 

I exited the bathroom, pushing past a group of burly guys, to come to a stop as I saw him leaning against a tall wine barrel, used by the bar and patrons as a table. 

He was drinking his glass of red, cigarette dangling from long fingers, one leg crossed over the other. He was wearing his work suit, black and pinstriped, and I noticed he hadn’t taken off the small badge on his tie that indicated his department and Ministry – perhaps he had meant to be in France. He watched me as I made my way slowly over, a sly smile making an appearance. 

He opened his mouth and I knew what was coming.

“Don’t say ‘fancy seeing you here’,” I said, and he laughed. “We both know we don’t go any where else.”

“I won’t.” He sniggered, sipping his wine slowly, thoughtfully. His eyes fluttered closed as he savoured the taste, and then put his glass down fixing me with a stare. I tried to push the thought of where I’d seen him give me that look before (under my sheets) and fiddled with my wristwatch to avoid his gaze. 

“I will say that I fancy what I see, however…” He leered, and I pushed him away, unable to stop the grin on my face. 

“Cheesy, that,” I replied, spotting Blaise take a seat in my vacant spot at the table over his shoulder. 

“My apologies,” he said, sounding amused. “I’ll try to be my usual charming, suave self.” 

“Hermione mentioned something about France…?” I said, trying to keep our conversation neutral. I’d ended up under his mercy whenever he was charming and suave, and I knew I didn’t have the strength to resist it. Or the desire too. 

“Conference finished today,” he said, brushing imaginary dirt off his blazer. “Mother and I were meant to be catching up, but she’s far too busy for me this weekend.” 

“Thought you’d come from work,” I said, horrified when I realised I’d reached out to run the silk of his tie between my fingers. “I’ve always liked this suit.” 

His eyes followed my fingers back to where I pushed them through my hair, just to give them something to do after they tingled with that familiar feel on fingertips once more. 

“You could help take it off me,” he said, pointedly picking up his wine glass and taking a long, slow sip and fixing me that with stare. “I’m possibly too tired to do it myself…”

I watched his signal, the red wine glass, be placed back on the wine barrel and swallowed. 

“Draco,” I said, trying to be stern and looking up to meet eyes that had darkened with lust. “I don’t feel like it tonight.” 

“Why not?” He stepped closer to me, fingers finding my belt loops, once again.

“We didn’t work out, we shouldn’t keep - ” I tried pushing away from him to feel his grip tighten, and myself pulled forward. I really should have rehearsed something before I came out. 

“The relationship didn’t work,” he said quietly, leaning forward to race the shell of my ear with that tongue that had plagued my dreams. I shuddered and felt an arm snake around my waist. “The fucking worked though… the many, many, many orgasms are proof…” 

“Can’t argue with proof…” I replied shakily, grabbing that tie and pulling him towards me, sighing when those lips pressed against mine. 

“Come home with me, Harry,” he said against my lips. “I’ll meet you outside?”

I nodded, swiping my tongue across my lips to savour his taste. I made my way back inside, rummaging in my jeans’ pockets for enough galleons for dinner. Ron was tucking into what looked like the rest of Hermione’s dessert, his empty plate pushed aside and engaged in an argument about Quidditch with Blaise. Hermione was sitting back watching them, looking content with a glass of wine. She smiled as she saw me, which faltered slightly as she watched me place the galleons on the table.

“Got to run,” I said hurriedly, avoiding her gaze, and Blaise’s smirk. Ron waved as I turned and practically ran to the man who waited for me outside. I was getting my Draco fix without a fight, or a disagreement, or any bullying. 

He was waiting for me with his usual cigarette dangling from his fingers, a small smirk playing on his lips. I grabbed his out stretched hand, allowed myself to be pulled into an empty alleyway, and braced myself for the familiar feel of apparition. 

Any comment I was about to make was quickly forgotten as he pressed me up against my bedroom door, pressing himself into me and pushing his thigh in-between mine. He pinned my wrists to the wall with his strong, long fingers and I could do nothing but groan. I tried to push him back towards the bed, but was pressed even harder against the wall. His lips were centimetres from mine, and I met his gaze – he seemed to be searching my face for something - waiting, driving me crazy and impatient with need. I arched against him, more than happy when my cock brushed against his – causing a moan from both of us. He kissed me, hard and rough, his grip tightening around my wrists. 

“Draco,” I moaned as lips made their way down my throat, burning in the most satisfying way. “Bed – what are you waiting for?”

I rolled my hips in a way that made sure I brushed against his hardness again, and that resulted in my wrists being released. 

“God, I don’t know,” he said, breathlessly. The front of my shirt was grabbed and I was pushed towards the bed roughly before being all but thrown upon it. “I can’t think around you.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, unbuttoning my shirt slowly. “Clearly… why are we both still clothed?”

He smirked back, mirroring my actions by shrugging off his blazer, loosening the tie and peeling off his shirt. I but my lip as his pants were pulled off roughly and thrown somewhere across my room. 

Crawling on top of me, he ran his hands over my chest, tracing old familiar scars and tutting at new ones. I moaned as he ducked his head to bite at my collarbone, and then traced his tongue from the mark he had left to my naval. My fingers sought pleasure of their own as I ran them through his hair, my grip tightening as his tongue ventured lower. I almost howled as he licked a blazing line from my balls to the tip of my shaft. Two fingers encircled the base in a hot, vice like grip as I was swallowed and I didn’t know who had moaned louder. It was almost too much and not enough and I found myself having to sit up and watch as that beautiful blonde head bobbed up and down in my lap, as if I had to see it to believe that it was Draco Malfoy in my bed. He prepared me thoroughly, slowly and carefully and then fucked me hard and fast…

He was worse than nicotine, but he was in my bed, and for that night he was mine. If I couldn’t have him in a relationship, I’d take him as he came. 

I had no time to feel ashamed at myself for not quitting Draco Malfoy. 

///

The shame came a couple of weeks later, when I saw Draco at Bar de Halcyon flirting with a brunette on what I could only assume was a date. There were a couple of plates of tapas pushed aside and far too many empty champagne glasses for my liking. 

I didn’t realise I had stopped dead in my tracks until Ginny pulled on my arm to make me get out the way of a disgruntled couple who had almost walked into me. Neville was talking to the waiter about the possibility of a table, and Ginny raised her eyebrows at me as I reluctantly let her pull me along to join him. I didn’t want Draco to know I had spotted him and I certainly didn’t want him to notice us. A painting on the exposed brick wall suddenly became very interesting to me. 

We were finally seated in a booth, which answered my prayers – I made sure my back was facing Draco, and to do so I had to rudely cut in front of Ginny.

She rolled her eyes and sat opposite me, grabbing a menu. “Can you stop being so obvious?” 

“About what?” I didn’t meet her eyes, instead leafed through the menu I practically knew off by heart. Neville snorted next to me, but averted his gaze back to his menu when I shot him a glare. 

“Shall we order for the others?” he asked, voice light and still not making eye contact. Ginny kicked me under the table.

“Don’t bother, you know Ron will just complain it’s not enough,” She said, crossing her arms and pining me with a look Hermione would have been proud off. “I thought you two were just casual now. Why are you jealous?”

“Why have they discontinued that cider?” I said, ignoring her and pushing the drinks menu towards Neville. “This is why I don’t want to come here anymore.”

“Because they quit selling that cider, or because you can’t quit Draco Malfoy?” Ginny countered. I ran a hand through my hair and finally looked at her properly.

“Is it really that obvious?” I sighed, fighting every urge not to turn and look over my shoulder. 

“Might as well get it tattooed on your forehead,” Neville grinned, and Ginny joining him. It faltered slightly as she touched my hand. 

“You didn’t want to go back to being casual did you?” She said, and I hoped the look I gave her satisfied her question. I couldn’t voice it out loud, but hated that it was obvious even without words. 

Ginny was looking over my shoulder, then around for a waiter. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s a date. They’re looking at paperwork.”

“Probably comparing Gringotts vaults…” I said and Neville snorted. Ginny rolled her eyes but smiled all the same, still looking over my shoulder. “Will you stop? He’ll notice you.”

“Yes, because _you_ hadn’t made sure of that earlier,” She laughed, brown eyes snapping back to meet mine. “And I’m not entertaining your jealousy. If you want to date Draco again, then tell him.”

“Tell who what?” Ron said, Hermione appearing out of nowhere to kiss me on the cheek and then lean across me to do the same to Neville. “Malfoy’s here, mate.”

“Very aware, thanks,” I said, pushing the drinks menu across to Ron and ignoring Ginny muttering something to him behind her hand. “They’ve discontinued your cider.” 

This distracted Ron away from whatever Ginny was trying to whisper to him, but it didn’t distract Hermione who raised her eyebrows at me. From where she was seated she couldn’t see him, and I was glad for it. Our dinner went well, as it always did, and I tried desperately to ignore the feelings that were tying knots in my stomach. I hadn’t been talking about the cider when I had told Ginny I didn’t want to come to Halcyon anymore. I didn’t want to see him anymore and know that he’d be in my bed, or I in his, and that only happened because we both kept coming here. He could entertain others, and the thought of being with others, and still want to play our fucked up game. I didn’t know who the brunette was and I didn’t want to – I only knew I was getting tired of letting Malfoy have his cake, to eat it, but to never share it. 

There was a live band that night which distracted Ginny once we’d finished dinner and dessert, and it wasn’t long before we had to move to the courtyard to satisfy her. Malfoy had still been with his date as we moved away, I noted out the corner of my eye. 

Mid-conversation with Neville, I smelt his cigarette before I registered the arm around my shoulder and his voice purring in my ear. The smoke invaded my nostrils, and my skin prickled in anticipation: I was going to get my fix. 

Neville batted the smoke away from his face and this snapped me out of my daze. 

“Good to see your jumper matches your shoes tonight.” He smirked as I turned to face him. He was in _that_ mood tonight, and I knew that I was not in the mood to entertain it, to entertain him. “Any you’ve styled your hair…”

“Sod off,” was all I managed, turning back around to continue my conversation with Neville. Draco laughed and moved to grab a chair that had just been vacated by a party next to us leaving, and placed it next to mine before moving to greet the others.

“How was your dinner, Draco?” Hermione asked very casually, and I glared at her. 

“Perfectly fine,” he replied with a smile. “Had to cut it short when this noise started up.” 

He jerked his head towards the band and I snorted. 

“Didn’t look like there was much conversation to be heard,” I muttered but he heard me. I glanced at him to be met with a very icy smile. 

“Watching me, were you?” Draco replied, voice tight. “As always. That was actually a representative from the Italian Ministry.” 

“No wonder you got promoted so quickly, if that’s how you treat all your co-workers.” I scoffed, knocking back the rest of my drink, glaring at the empty glass to avoid glaring at him. 

“Perhaps you should try it, then you just might get Head Auror.” He shot back. Our friends were well trained in not taking notice: the band was suddenly very good, ‘how is your mum?’ suddenly became a great new conversation topic, or the line at the toilet had cleared. They’d all gotten used to it, and I thought I had as well.

“Anyone for another drink?” I asked, nodding and Ron and Neville as they raised their empty pint glasses. I made my way to the bar, throwing a look over my shoulder to where Draco sat in his chair, his body language was that of a predator watching his prey, and I certainly felt that way. I slapped my money down on the bar, seething. I was coming to the definite conclusion that this would be my last night here. A good-looking, sandy haired man to my right smiled in my direction. 

“Girlfriend troubles?” he asked. 

“ _Ex-boyfriend_ troubles,” I muttered, glancing over his shoulder to where Draco sat, now leaning forward with narrowed eyes. He looked over his own shoulder to where I was glaring, and he wouldn’t have missed the blond who was glaring intently back.

“Amicable split then?” he said, turning to back to face me with a smile tugging on the corner of this mouth and I laughed out loud. “What did you do?”

I shrugged, turning back to the bar to catch a bartender’s attention. What had I done? Dared to love him? Dared to be jealous? “Nothing right, that’s for sure.”

He nodded, smiling sympathetically. “Euan,” he then said, sticking out his hand. I took it, hoping Draco was still watching.

Euan seemed to read my mind as he glanced over his shoulder again. “He’s coming over. Want me to pretend you said something incredibly funny?”

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “No, it’s alright. It was nice to meet you.”

Draco slid next to me and another patron at the bar, shooting Euan a dangerous look. He had some money pined to the bar by two fingers, waiting to be served. I kept my back to him, mouthing an apology to Euan. I could feel the weight of Draco’s glare on the back of my head. Euan seemed to ignore him, and pulled out his wallet to retrieve a business card. 

“It was nice to meet you. When that thing that’s bothering you finally disappears, give me a call.” He raised his glass to me, completely ignored Draco and made his way into the courtyard. 

“Really?” Said a cold voice behind me. I turned to face the bar again, trying to ignore the bartender who put two glasses of Draco’s favourite red in front of him. 

“Really what?” I shot back. “You can cosy up to whoever you want but I can’t? I thought we were over.”

“So did I,” Draco shot back. I finally placed my order with a young bartender who was looking harassed. Out the corner of my eye I saw him take a long sip of his wine and relax a little. “Harry,” he said, voice soft and eyes pleading. He pushed the second glass towards me and I ignored it, waiting for my order. 

“No thank you,” I replied, rather pinched. Draco sighed, and waited in silence as I paid for the drinks and then tried to balance two very full glasses and my smaller whiskey in my hands. I gave the others their drinks and was about to take a seat when Draco pushed the red wine glass into my hands. 

“Please, Harry, I bought it for you. You know what it means…”

I threw the contents into the nearest pot plant and resisted the urge to smash the glass. I didn’t want to fight with him, or be near him, knowing full well what it would lead to. “I thought I did. But tonight I’m interpreting it as you’re desperate and couldn’t fuck a colleague, and I’m convenient.” 

I saw some of our friends roll their eyes, obviously realising the ‘Draco and Harry are at it, look busy’ time wasn’t over. I downed my whiskey and relished the burn, and made a move to leave – I’d apologise to the others tomorrow. 

A hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me back to Draco. He was grinning. 

“Harry,” he said, pulling me even closer to him. “I think I might need to use the handcuffs, you’re misbehaving tonight.”

I tried to shove him away from me but he’d grabbed both my wrists. I knew my resolve to not go home with him was crumbling, I was still angry at him, but I wanted to take it out on him using my body, not my words. “Find someone else,” I snapped.

His grip tightened. “We both know that’s not what you want.” His knee was nudging itself between my legs, and I shut my eyes in defeat when I realised I was getting hard. I opened them again to find Draco with a gleam in his eye, obviously noticing that fact as well. He had realised he had won, once again. 

A couple of minutes later, after a rushed Apparition in an alleyway, and after being slammed forcefully into a wall in Draco’s bedroom, I knew I had lost. 

When we had finally finished, spent and exhausted, he was affectionate and friendly, our spat at Bar de Halcyon obviously forgotten. I’d pulled on my jeans and was about to get up the bed to find my shirt and shoes when long fingers made their way down my spine, paralysing my movements. I shut my eyes and the touch, and sighed when I felt a kiss on my shoulder. 

“See you at Halcyon?” he murmured against my shoulder, lips still pressed against my skin. I swallowed, fighting every urge to turn around and claim those lips again – I had to leave. I summoned the rest of my clothes and stood to leave, proud of myself for not turning around and crumbling, as I had done many a time before. 

“Perhaps, Draco.” I said softly, and Apparated to my dark bedroom in Grimmauld Place before he could comment. 

As I lay in bed that night, trying desperately to not think of Draco, I could still feel those fingers make their way down my spine and I thought maybe it was okay to be addicted. Wishing I had stayed with Draco, I tossed and turned before deciding to return to Halcyon, to Draco, next weekend.

///

It turned out that I didn’t have to quit Draco after all – he decided Halcyon, our game, weren’t his thing anymore. A month had passed where Draco had declined any invitation to Halcyon and with every decline I couldn’t help feeling I’d had a part to play in his disappearance. 

“He’s in Rome this weekend,” Blaise shrugged on our third dinner without Draco. “He wouldn’t have come anyway, something’s turned him off this place.”

The brief look Blaise gave me confirmed my suspicions that the thing was me. I still saw him on the odd occasion at the Ministry, sometimes there would be a steaming cup of coffee placed on my desk from his favourite coffee shop, or a suggestive glance over his shoulder as we passed each other in the corridors of the Ministry, but no more glasses of red, no more Halcyon, and no more games. 

He had been spending more and more time abroad – especially in Rome. There were tensions over a disagreement over something or the other between the Ministries and Draco was often sent to smooth things over. He was good at talking people into things – I would know. 

I was hurt and confused by his sudden disinterest, and disappearances. It hurt even more to realise I wasn’t surprised – something better had come along for him, in the form of an Italian. Draco had already decided he didn’t want an Auror with an unpredictable job but predictable lifestyle, who enjoyed staying in, or going to the same place with the same people. I couldn’t hold it against him, but boy did I want too. Whenever we wanted to see each other, there was Halcyon. Now there was nothing. 

“Yeah, I’m getting sick of tapas…might try somewhere else,” Ron said one afternoon at work after I’d declined to join him and Hermione for dinner at Halcyon. It had been a particularly horrible week within the DMLE, and we were eating hurriedly at our desks, waiting for orders at any minute to go out into the field. A small magical community in a country town had gotten wind a not so savoury character had moved into their village, and had decided to protest against his move not so peacefully. They didn’t have any real proof against the guy, and most of the problems were stemming from rumours. “I’m still hungry, gonna go grab another sandwich. Want anything?”

I shook my head as Ron rushed out, shoving my last bite into my mouth and looking around my disorganised desk for my notes on the case, to then be called into Robards’ office. 

“We’re moving in twenty,” he had said without even looking up from mountains of reports on the matter. “Get sorted, get the team ready and meet me in here for orders.” 

The adrenaline that suddenly coursed through my body in anticipation of field work was then doubled when I saw a familiar blonde sitting on my desk, one leg crossed over the other, a smile on his face. 

“Your reports are still awful,” he said as I made my way over. He leafed casually through one at his side. “You should be restricted to desk work until they’re up to standard.”

I took him in, savoured the sight as if he were going to disappear any second. He was in his black pinstripe suit, my favourite, looking as though he’d stepped out of a catalogue - not a Portkey from Rome. He pushed himself off my desk to come over to me and brush something off my uniform. 

“Perhaps I should offer to tie you down and watch you squirm,” he muttered, leaning in very close to me. The images of the last time he had tied me down and made me squirm hit me so suddenly I almost felt I had to steady myself. He was grinning wickedly and I couldn’t manage to muster one back. I knew I was meant to be getting sorted, to be finding Ron and the others and getting to Robards, but I wanted a few more seconds of Draco.

“How was Rome?” I said, side stepping him to write a memo to Ron to get his arse out the cafeteria and back up here. 

“Work,” Draco shrugged. He leant back against my desk, our shoulders touching as I wrote hurriedly to Ron and the others. I snorted and looked up at him briefly. 

“I heard your boss raging about your expenses the other day, “ I said. “Seems like you’re wining and dining a lot.”

“All work,” Draco shrugged again, smiling. 

“Haven’t seen you at Halcyon lately,” I said, trying to sound casual. Luckily some memos came zooming back in reply, and I didn’t have to make eye contact with him. He touched my hand and I looked at him to see his smile falter slightly.

“I know,” he said softly. “Can you meet me there tonight?” 

“Potter!” Robards shouted, and I looked over my shoulder to nod at him. 

“I’m about to go on a case, I can’t promise anything,” I said to Draco.

“Of course.” He nodded. “Well tonight, if the case goes well, tomorrow alternatively?”

Ron came rushing into the department with others form our team at this point, and I made my way to join them. Draco grabbed my wrist, halting me mid stride. 

“Harry,” he said, suddenly stern. “Be careful. And try, tonight or tomorrow…”

I nodded at him, and left him hastily, patting my pocket to make sure I had my wand. My skin was tingling where he’d touched me, my heart thumping in my chest at the prospect of seeing him again, but I was also fuming at his sudden desire to see me after weeks of avoiding me. I should have declined him, as he had done to me. How could I refuse Halcyon with Ron and Hermione but jump at the chance to go with Draco…?

I didn’t have much time to dwell on how angry Draco had made me as Robards briefed us on the case. Things had been getting steadily worse all day with some more aggressive villagers becoming violent. He had been informed to expect chaos, and that he needed us to be our best. 

My best landed me in St. Mungos, having taken two curses at once while trying to remove some stubborn and aggressive protestors away from innocent pedestrians. 

I’d spent the rest of that day and the next in hospital, with a nicely shattered right leg and even better concussion. I’d been called an idiot by Robards, Hermione and line of Weasleys and was let home with a long list of conditions, one of them being bed-rest for a week. 

I realised with a jolt, as Hermione helped me into my own bed, that I wouldn’t be able to meet Draco at Halcyon, and realised with another jolt that I was sort of happy about it. 

“It’s probably for the best, Harry,” She said, arranging my pillows behind me after I voiced my thoughts out loud. 

“What does that mean?” I asked her, watching her then place phials of pain relief and a bottle of water on my bedside table. She paused for a moment before moving to my wardrobe to gather some extra blankets to place next to me. She then sat on the edge of my bed and sighed.

“I just mean that it’s probably best your little game comes to an end, is all. One of you is going to end up hurt. Either get back together or end it – permanently.”

“He’s the one that ended it in the first place – I never wanted this,” I said, defensively. 

Hermione raised her hands in defence. “You might not have wanted this but you didn’t fight against it…” 

“What?” I said indignantly and she stood up, grabbing her bag off my chest of drawers. 

“I’m not talking about it any more, but just think about it…” She said, looking at me sympathetically. “I’ve told Kreacher you’re not allowed out of this bed, and if you need anything to let him know. He’ll pass on any messages you have and we’ll come by and see you tomorrow. I’ll owl in advance. Now, take your potions and rest.” 

With that she left, shutting the door behind her and leaving me in alone in my bedroom with a leg that was so badly broken it required magical pins to help Skele-Gro along, a throbbing head and now, a heavy heart. I downed a bottle of pain relief, and settled back into my pillows, fighting thoughts of Draco and giving into sleep. 

I was awoken later by the soothing sensation of fingers threading themselves through my hair and blinked my eyes open to see Draco sitting in a chair beside my bed, a soft smile on his face, and his fingers continuing to work their magic on my scalp. 

“Hey,” I said, voice croaky and eyes drooping, eyelids heavy. “What’re you doing here?”

“You stood me up,” he said, grinning. I managed to roll my eyes.

“Hilarious that, considering...” I watched his eyes roam down my form and settle on my leg, shaking his head. 

“You know I don’t like being stood up, I just had a few things to say about your horrendous manners. Not even an owl…” He tutted, waggling a finger in my face, which I swatted away. 

“Go on then, let me have it…” I yawned, watching him as he leant back in his seat, arms folded over his chest. He was dressed casually, and certainly didn’t look like he had been dressed ready for a night out. 

“It can wait.” He shrugged. 

“Well that’s a first…” I said, feigning shock. I noticed a bottle of red at his feet. “Seriously though, what brings you by? I can’t drink, I can’t get excited… I’m pretty boring company at the moment.”

“So nothing out of the ordinary, then,” he said, eyebrow arching and grin on his face. I rolled my eyes at him again, but smiled nonetheless. I couldn’t remember the last time he had been in my room without us having just Apparated in from Halcyon, and memories of breakfasts in bed, movies in bed that turned into agonisingly slow sex, of a particularly vicious fights where one of us ended up being shoved onto the bed. This was out of the ordinary for us, with him sitting so near and yet so far and still fully clothed. There were no suggestions purred into my ear, and no cigarette smoke that clouded my mind. 

We stared at each other for a couple of seconds before he spoke again. “Granger may have mentioned you’d managed to injure yourself and I offered to babysit you for the night…”

“How sweet,” I said, stretching as much as I dared without jostling my leg. “You really don’t have to…can’t go anywhere, can’t do anything… can’t get into too much trouble.”

“No, I don’t have to, I want to,” he said, lowering his gaze briefly. “I’m off to Rome again this week… I had other plans for us, but…”

He waved towards my leg, shaking his head again. I swallowed, debating with myself whether or not to let him proceed with those plans, my leg could be damned. 

“Are you hungry? Thought I’d order some take away…” He said, standing up and stretching himself, his jumper riding up to expose milky white flesh, which I stared at, transfixed. I nodded dumbly, watching him leave to go grab a menu from my kitchen. 

I sighed and let my head thump against the back of the headboard. Hermione had been right – I hadn’t fought to keep Draco in my life, but I had continued to fight with him, to a play a twisted game of hot and cold, shit scared to voice any emotions or feelings. I had let him leave my kitchen that morning, and I had let him talk me into every casual fuck after the ‘break-up’, but I hadn’t talked to him about anything, went along with the game as if I didn’t want anything else, when all I wanted was him. And now? All we’d managed to do was trade mistakes, and he had made the decision to stop, and I was too late. 

He’d come back minutes later with the menu and phone, made me order since he was adamant to never use a telephone. He made sure I was comfy, made me drink some water and then disappeared downstairs to be there to open the door for when the take away arrived. 

Draco came back up the stairs about twenty minutes later, take away presented nicely on a tray and I suspected he’d wrestled it out of Kreacher’s hands at the top of the stairs. We ate in bed, the Muggle TV and News in the background, in relative silence. We hadn’t talked in a long time, really, and now there seemed to be something unspoken between us. I was tempted to take a phial of pain relief to fall asleep, to escape the silence and the urge to just blurt out what I felt. That thought died when he cleared our plates with a flick of his wand, and curled up next to me as much as he could without touching my leg. I couldn’t resist - it was my turn to card my fingers through his hair. He sighed happily, tightening his fist around my t-shirt. 

“I was worried when I’d heard about the attack…I’m glad you’re okay, despite the injuries,” he said quietly, eyes on the TV. I laughed, which jostled him slightly. 

“I’m blaming you for my fuck up, by the way,” I said, pulling on his hair slightly. He sat up, dislodging my hand. 

“Me?” he asked, eyebrow arched. 

“You. Showing up out of no where minutes before I had to leave, in my favourite suit…” I swallowed, meeting his gaze. I didn’t dare tell him what I actually felt, and had felt for months. 

“I was on your mind, was I?” he asked.

“You always are,” I said, before I could stop myself. He smiled and reached out to place his hand on the back of my neck; drawing me to him so he could kiss me softly. 

“Draco,” I groaned, “I can’t…”

“I know,” he said, lips on mine again. I moaned as my tongue met his, his hands cupping my face. It was awkward, my abdominals complaining at the way I had to twist to meet him. He released my lips and face, and straddled me without his weight resting on me. He kissed me again, his tongue persistent to rub against mine. I pushed my hands up his shirt, my hands splayed against his back relishing in the warmth and silky smooth skin. Draco kissed the corners of my mouth, before moving to pepper my face with kisses. 

“Do you ever wonder what it is we’re doing?” he asked so quietly I almost missed it. I raised my eyebrows in response, unsure as to what he meant. He gestured between us. “You know, at Halcyon, with others, with each other… why don’t we just-”

“Just what?” I asked, my heart thumping at what he was gong to say next. Why don’t we just end it – or get back together? He sighed, shaking his head and placed another kiss to my forehead. 

He then retreated suddenly, frowning. I protested at the loss with a small moan, and watched as Draco placed the back of his hand against my forehead. 

“You’re burning up,” he muttered, eyes meeting mine.

“Your fault.” I yawned, shivering as I did so. He rolled his eyes and clambered off the bed, moving around to look at the phials next to me, picking out two for me to take. 

“Take these,” he said, uncorking them and holding them out, watching me to make sure I downed every last drop. “I’d rather not be the death of you.”

He brushed my hair off my forehead as I settled back into my pillows, eyes drooping. I grabbed his hand before it left my forehead, watching him smile as I kissed the palm. 

“That’d be an awesome way to go,” I mumbled sleepily and probably incoherently. 

A chaste kiss on my lips was all I felt in response, before falling into a deep sleep. 

I woke up the next morning feeling one hundred times better. The foggy feeling from the potions had disappeared, Draco Malfoy was in my bed and even though we hadn’t said that much to each other last night, something had still been said. I had hoped I had conveyed, in some small way, what he meant to me. 

I noticed Kreacher had left two trays laden with breakfast levitating next to both of us, under a Stasis charm. Draco was turned away from me, with considerable distance between him and my leg. I decided to leave him to sleep, as I grabbed my wand to move my tray to me. 

Kreacher had placed a copy of the Daily Prophet on my tray, and I opened the paper with as little noise as possible, sipping on my tea. After wading through the ‘news’ I ended up at the Social Section, and nearly ended up spitting out my tea at the article. 

“Business and Pleasure for Draco Malfoy in Rome” the headline screamed at me, and I watched as a Draco Malfoy, in black and white, walked the streets of Rome laughing and walking rather closely to the same brunette I had seen him with at Halcyon. I felt the pit of my stomach drop, and couldn’t bring myself to look at the same man who was currently in my bed. I wanted to wake up and yell at him everything I thought about him, but at the same time I wanted to cherish the time he was here with me… 

It wasn’t long before he stretched and rolled over to face me, blinking up at me sleepily. I had placed the copy of the Prophet down, but was still staring at it, with my jaw set. 

“You’re up,” he said, moving to sit up with me. “What are you reading?”

He peered at my tray to then freeze momentarily; in a way very similar to when I had pointed out to him he’d graced their Social Section many weeks ago. “Not again.” He sighed, rubbing his face. 

Not again, indeed. I could feel a rant brewing up inside of me. 

“Is this why you’re going back to Rome?” I asked, voice tight. He shook his head and tried to grab the Prophet but I flung the tray off the bed, wincing at not only the crashing sound, but also with the pain that shot through my leg when it was jostled slightly. While last night had been out of the ordinary for us, this….this was familiar territory. 

“Harry, it’s not like that,” he said, placing a hand on my chest and I pushed it off me. Maybe I didn’t fight for our relationship, but all I would have been fighting for was a supporting role in his life. There were always others interested in him that way, and I was always the idiot who waited for him at home, or at Halcyon. I was the idiot who waited for him at Halcyon while he gallivanted with that brunette around Rome.

“Bullshit,” I snapped. “So what, I’m not relationship material but he is?”

Draco threw the covers off him and got off the bed, glaring at me with hands on hips. “I’m not in a relationship with him. You don’t believe anything else the Prophet prints but you always seem to take news about me as gospel. I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t believe you,” I countered, rather childishly. I was feeling trapped, stuck in bed by my pinned leg as Draco stormed around my room picking up his belongings. We fought like this all the time at Halcyon – although his time one of us couldn’t convince the other to fuck it out. “It’s not like you talk to me about anything. You only seem to want anything to do with me when you see me at Halcyon and fancy a fuck.”

“Oh and it’s any different for you?” he spat back, standing up straight as a rod after gathering his shoes and socks. “You never talk about what you feel, what you want, but you can send me these pathetic wounded looks anytime you see me with someone else. Half the time I only do it to get some sort of feeling out of you!”

“What I feel? What I want?” I shouted back, hands clenching in my bed sheets with frustration in not being able to move to him. “I’m sick of being your second option, the support act, if you will.”

“What are you talking about?” he said back, looking irritated. He then shut his eyes and sighed. “You’re an idiot.” 

I bristled at his remark and said what I felt would be right.

“I want the games at Halcyon, with us, to end.” 

He nodded, eyes still shut. When he opened them they were cold as ice, a stark contrast to the dark grey that had blinked up at me earlier. He turned to leave my bedroom. I had expected him to ask what I meant and to elaborate. 

“I had gotten rather bored with it…”

My breath hitched, all worries I had concerning that he’d outgrown the games, Halcyon, us confirmed in his remark. 

“Anything else?” he asked coldly over his shoulder, barely looking at me. 

“Take that bottle of red with you. I’m not interested…” I muttered.

“Keep it, I bought it for you…” Draco said softly, almost sadly. “It’s… you know what it means.”

It took me a moment to register it was our red, our signal, from Halcyon. 

He’d given me a glass with the same line weeks ago, and I’d thrown it away, literally. 

Here he was with a bottle, and I was demanding him to take it away…

I made a move to get off the bed, to demand to Draco what he meant, what were we doing and that he should just fucking stay, that I didn’t mean a single word I’d said but the pain was too much.

“Fuck, Draco wait,” I said through gritted teeth, lifting my leg back to it’s position before looking imploringly at Draco. I had hoped I had stalled Draco in leaving, and I had momentarily. “If you change your mind, about everything…you know where to find me.”

He shot me a look of pity, mixed with something else, before Apparating out of my room. 

///

Two months had passed since that argument, and I hadn’t spoken to Draco. 

Hermione had sighed and shook her head when I told her and Ron about our fight when they had visited me the next day. She’d called me an idiot, echoing Draco and seemed to then clamp her mouth shut against saying anything else. She’d muttered something about us both being useless, and Ron just shrugged at me at a loss on words to say. 

I replayed that night and in turn the morning after, in my mind almost everyday, feeling sick every time I discovered another place I’d fucked up. 

He’d been right to leave, and we’d been right to end things. 

It was taking me a while to accept that I would be happier alone than waiting on the scraps Draco gave me… That I wasn’t cut out for a casual affair, and he didn’t want a relationship. It was great while it lasted, but something’s just couldn’t be forced – Draco Malfoy was one of those things. 

The Prophet loved the work he was doing in Rome, and the Social Journalists loved the work he was doing with that brunette off hours. But he looked happy – another thing that was hard for me to accept. I obviously hadn’t given him what he needed. 

He had ambushed his way into my life, and then promptly exited it, leaving me nothing. I still had hopes that I’d be dragged away from the Ministry cafes to join him on his coffee run, there were no more random presents left on my desk after he’d been away and I was sure my Auror Reports were getting worse. 

I missed our fights, I missed our banter. I even missed Halcyon at times.

Most of all, I missed him. But he was moving on, and I knew I had to do the same. 

Because of this, I found myself on a date with Euan at Halcyon one Friday night. I felt restless, and haunted by memories of Draco and I in every inch of the place, and horrible at the fact I was stringing the poor bloke along. We’d bumped into each other after I had met Ron and Hermione for a casual drink, and I had suggested we meet there again on a date after he had proposed the idea. A part of me hoped Draco would stroll through the door, glare menacingly at the poor guy and order me a glass of our red. 

“What are you drinking?” Euan said, snapping me out of my thoughts. We were standing at the bar, waiting for a table, and I couldn’t help but keep glancing around for that hair… 

I ordered our red, wanting to taste that flavour that I’d not only associated with Draco, but us. The start and end of everything. Euan had ordered a boutique beer that required our bartender to go to the backroom, just as the waiter informed us our table was ready. 

“You go grab it, I’ll wait for your drink,” I said. Euan nodded, and I thought he seemed sceptical. He had every right to be – I was stalling time. My heart wasn’t in it, and Hermione would have killed me to know I was at Halcyon with another guy. I knew Draco’d be furious that I’d even entertained the idea. 

I turned around, my glass of red in hand, only to then have the breath knocked out of me by what I saw. I turned back around to avoid making eye contact with him again, but we had seen each other undoubtedly. 

Draco and his brunette were at a table in the courtyard, a couple of folders out in front of them. I looked back to find Draco still staring at me, an unreadable expression on his face. Slowly, he raised his red wine to me and I raised mine back, to then be interrupted by Euan’s beer. Draco’s smile froze and he turned his attention back to the brunette. 

I reluctantly made my way over to the table where Euan sat, absolutely unable to comprehend that Draco was here. I glanced back over my shoulder to make sure I hadn’t been hallucinating only to see Draco scoot closer to his date. 

Euan was chatty, and full of interested facts and nice enough, but my body was thrumming in anticipation of possibly being able to talk to Draco, even if he told me to fuck off. I felt shaky, and even more restless than I had been, the addict back. 

I couldn’t help but sneak another look in Draco’s direction, but this time Euan followed it. He sighed heavily. 

“I knew there was a reason why you wanted to come back here,” he said, resigned. I felt heat rise up my neck, truly ashamed at being such a dick to him. 

“I didn’t know, I promise…I’m sorry,” I said, looking at him imploringly. He shrugged, and knocked back the rest of his beer. 

“No matter, it got me a free beer, and got me out the house…”He trailed off, a light grin on his face. “I am going to go though. Couldn’t compete with him last night and not even going to try.” 

I smiled at him, waving him goodbye, and was left alone with my thoughts, and the weight of Draco’s stare on me. I contemplated leaving, but ordered another red and moved to the bar, hoping to catch Draco at some point. I didn’t have to wait long as he and his partner packed up their folders and were making their way toward the exit, where Draco would have to cross my path. I watched intently as Draco bid him farewell at the door with a kiss on the cheek and a wave. I tried to look elsewhere, sipping my wine as he made his way over to me. 

“Really?” he asked, expression unreadable. “You really bought a date here?”

“I could ask you the same thing of you,” I shot back, defensive. He leant back against the bar and sighed.

“It was just business,” he said, avoiding eye contact with me. “Everything was signed, sealed…and _finished_ , tonight.” 

His eyes met mine and my breath hitched. “Business in Rome finished, then?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I’m not going anywhere for a long time…”

Draco ran a hand through his hair, dislodging his fringe. The look he gave me from underneath it implied more to those words. He turned his body towards mine and I found myself mirroring his actions, turning to face him. It was just as though we were starting at the beginning once again – unable to keep away from each other, drawn to each other and unable to explain why. 

“And that guy…?” Draco asked casually, still looking up at me through his fringe, running a finger around the rim of his wine glass. “ He was just totally into the scar, by the way.” 

I choked on a sip of wine I had just taken. “He was a Muggle.”

Draco waved a hand dismissively, but shot me a small smile. He then eyed my red wine glass. 

“I see you’re still drinking our red,” he said, again avoiding my eye. I nodded in response, unable to tell where he was going with this. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Does it still mean…I mean we used it as a signal of sorts…”

“Yes,” I said, strongly, hoping that it would convey that yes, it did still mean what it had always meant: no one here is as good as you. “But I want to say it, without the red, because we’ve been so good at not saying anything, of reading each other wrong, and relying on symbols…”

Draco froze, his hand rest atop his wine glass that he was just about to pick up. He pushed it aside. 

“No one here is as good as you…” I started, suddenly unable to continue. How to begin to convey what I felt or him, what I had always felt despite the utter chaos we’d created… “But not just here…no one is as good as you, anywhere, anymore… for me.” 

I winced, hating how awkward I sounded, and waited for Draco’s laugher in response. He stared at me for what felt like minutes, an unreadably expression on his face, and I made to turn away from him, but two hands grabbed the front of my jumper, keeping me in place. I was pulled flush against Draco, and I swallowed looking up at him. 

“You were never a supporting act, Harry.” He sighed, hands clenching tighter in my jumper and pulling me even closer. “I just didn’t know what to do with you once I had you… I’ve said before, I can’t think around you, and that was half of the problem. But when I’m away from you all I can think about is you.”

I placed one hand on the back of his neck, and another of one of his clenched fists in my jumper, and pulled his head down so our lips could meet. He moaned when my tongue swiped his bottom lip, seeking entrance. My body seemed to sag with relief once I tasted him again, red wine and cigarettes and Draco. 

“I feel like we should get out of here, but I don’t know if that’s wise…” I breathed, eyes still trained on his lips. He ran his thumb across my swollen bottom lip, grinning. 

“No it’s wise, we need to talk,” he said, and then leant down to purr in my ear like he’d done so many times before, to the same effect. “And then we need to fuck.”

It was a miracle we didn’t Apparate then and there, but we rushed from Halcyon, our fingers linked, desperate to keep touching each other and to keep a hold on one another. He pulled me into his chest once again, and I felt the familiar tug of side along Apparition. It took me a moment to realise we were in my room at Grimmauld Place, before I was slammed up against the back of my bedroom door. 

“You said we needed to talk,” I said breathlessly. Draco’s weight was on me, pinning me down. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head. He grinned, eyes raking my figure pinned underneath him to the door. Lips attached themselves to my neck, before he nipped and licked the spot where my neck met my collarbone.

“Talk,” he said, before pressing his lips back to skin. I groaned, arching up against him in an attempt to find some friction, wondering how on earth I was meant to communicate with Draco’s body against mine, his lips on my skin…It was unfair, it was cruel and it was so Draco. 

“I didn’t mean it the way it came across when I said I wanted our games at Halcyon to end,” I gasped out as he pressed his hardness against mine, and at the same time biting my neck. “I wanted the game to stop, but I never wanted to stop seeing you.”

“I didn’t mean it when I said I’d gotten bored of them… I just wanted to see your reaction.” He said, stopping his ministrations to meet my eye. He let go of my wrists and took a step back, shrugging off his blazer and hastily removing the buttons on his shirt. I grabbed my jumper and pulled it over my head, and in turn pulling my glasses off simultaneously. Draco was back on me, hands splayed over my chest, his forehead resting on mine, breathing heavily. 

“I meant it when I said you were always on my mind,” I choked out as his hands moved to remove my belt. “I was just angry, and frustrated and fuck-”

My jeans were pulled down, and the relief of my cock finally free was just what I needed. Draco stepped back, removing his belt slowly, maintaining eye contact with me as he did so.

“I didn’t mean to break off the relationship, I have a bad habit of seeing the end of things before they’ve even begun, ” He said, placing his hands on either side of my head and slowly rotating his groin against mine as if to emphasise his point. I cried out at the friction, grabbing his waist to bring him closer to me, to have more of that friction I so desperately needed, missed, _craved_ …

“I meant to fight for it,” I sighed as he reached down, taking both our cocks in one hand, pulling lazily, a grin on his face. “I just didn’t think you wanted that – wanted me.” 

I knew it would only be matter of time before I was rendered incoherent – sweat was pooling on my forehead and I could see it beading on Draco’s top lip, inviting me to lick it away. “Of course I wanted you – I just didn’t know what you wanted, and if …” His breath hitched as he picked up the pace “If our relationship was even working…the fights, but fuck everything else was perfect…” 

He leant down to kiss me, our teeth clashing in a battle of dominance, touches of lips turning into quick bites. “I didn’t meant to ever put you second, or give you the impression that you were … I just didn’t know what you wanted…”

My back arched at not only his touch, but also his words. I could feel myself getting close. “I want you inside me, for starters,” I breathed, grabbing his hand away from his cock and mine, and pushing him towards the bed. He moaned as I pushed him down and straddled his lap, rotating my hips lazily. He placed one arm around my waist as he leant forward to rummage around on my bedside table for lube. I heard the unmistakable sound of glass crashing, and the smell of bitter red wine filled my nostrils, making me dizzy. Draco hadn’t seemed to notice that the bottle he’d bought over those many weeks ago had crashed to the floor, instead he was generously coating his fingers with lube. I grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at me. I needed to say it before we went further, before there was another thing unsaid between us.

“And I just want you…I’ll take you however you come, but fuck…I just want you.”

I was rewarded with a finger slipping past my entrance, just as he pulled my mouth down to crash against his. I broke away from the kiss and cried out as Draco’s finger found and pressed against my prostate. I ground my hips down, desperate to get more of that burn, that friction and pressure, another finger joined the first and continued to stretch me until I was a moaning mess in Draco’s lap. Draco moved his hand to his cock, giving it a few slow pulls and coating it with lube. I grasped his shoulders using them for leverage, and as an anchor to reality, as I lowered myself onto his cock. We both moaned, and I felt myself shudder feeling stretched around Draco as I let myself sink deeper. Draco had pulled me even closer to him, resting his head on my chest. He grabbed my hips, pulling me down on his cock just that little bit more. 

He placed open mouthed kisses on my chest before snapping his hips up, hitting my prostate suddenly and causing me my back to arch. Tightening my grip on his shoulders, I began to meet his thrusts, fucking myself harder on his cock. 

It was slow, agonisingly slow, and I could feel the pressure and the need for release increasing. Draco grasped my cock, pumping it with sure, fast strokes and I looked down to see him bite his lips and screw his eyes shut, seemingly close to loosing control. His hips began to move faster, thrusts deeper, the strokes on my cock – Draco was in me, around me. I cried out, back arching and painted Draco’s chest and coated his hand with my release. I could feel myself tighten around Draco’s cock with every wave of pleasure and it was long before Draco bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut, pulling me down as far as he could onto his cock while he came. 

We both sagged with the relief of our orgasms, and I rested my forehead on Draco’s while we both caught our breath. I began to slowly lift myself off Draco only to be grabbed around the waist and flung onto my back, with Draco pressed into my side, arm flung over my chest, almost possessively. 

“Not going anywhere,” He muttered sleepily, placing an open mouthed kiss to me chest. 

We lay in silence, the sounds of our breathing evening out. The strong smell of the red wine seeping into my rug hit my nose.

“Shame about that wine,” I said, my fingers carded through Draco’s sweaty locks. 

Draco lifted his head up to assess the damage and shrugged lazily, looking up to meet my eyes with a lazy grin on his face. “Not really. We used to use it as a ‘Come Home with Me’ signal – I hope to never have to use it again. You’re never leaving this house, let alone this bed, without me.” 

I felt my grin stretch across my face, and Draco’s smile in response was blinding. 

We stared at each other in silence, savouring the moment. There’d be plenty of more time to talk about what we should have done months ago, to fight about who was wrong and right and to contemplate why we hadn’t done this earlier, to laugh at the situation. 

But in the silence, there was only one meaning we needed to get across to each other, the smell of our red wine infiltrating the room, it’s message of so long seeping into our minds as it did my rug: _I don’t want anyone else – ever._

**Author's Note:**

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